


midst of the mind

by gigglesandfreckles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Obi-Wan and Padmé Hang Out & Gossip Because That's Basically Canon, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine Being An Asshole, They Also Love Anakin A Lot, zen!Anakin au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglesandfreckles/pseuds/gigglesandfreckles
Summary: Anakin has always had a pretty good understanding of his feelings, even if he's not particularly disciplined in acting on them. But things surrounding the Chancellor seem to be off and Anakin's determined to get to the bottom of it. With a little help from his friends.[or: fix-it ROTS fic where Ani, Obi, and Padmé take down the Chancellor one fake smile and late-night tea party at a time]
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 71
Kudos: 189





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! me??? starting another multi-chapter fic when I haven't finished my others? more likely than you think.
> 
> this sprouted from the zen!Anakin ficlets and asks I've been writing/answering over the past month or so. the idea has been living rent-free in my imagination for a BIT and so I simply had to give in and write it. no choice.
> 
> I cannot guarantee much, but I can guarantee that Sheev Palpatine will be dead by the end of it, so hop on in and enjoy the ride!!

He’s late, because _of course_ he is.

And while Padmé wouldn’t care and Obi-Wan would only roll his eyes, this is the Chancellor. Anakin’s not sure why, but it’s always been very important to him for the older man to respect him. He’s looked after Anakin in his way since Anakin was a Padawan. The least he can do is be _on time_ when the Chancellor requests his presence.

He slid into the back of the box and noted that it was another opera. The Chancellor had a specific love for the theatre. Said he enjoyed watching them all play their parts on the small stage below. He was intrigued by the idea of the actors and actresses living a double life, being able to turn one persona off and another on within an instant.

Anakin would rather have _Archives_ duty than watch _another_ opera. Palpatine had been insistent this time, though, and Anakin had run out of excuses a long time ago.

“You wanted to see me, Chancellor,” he said, coming up on the older man’s right. There was a woman sitting next to him, as there usually was at these performances. Anakin had wondered as to the nature of the various women’s relationship with the politician over the years, but never found the courage to voice his curiosity.

And, anyway, if he was being honest–it grosses him out more than it interested him.

“Yes, Anakin, come closer,” Palpatine said, without turning over his shoulder. He always seemed to sense Anakin before he should. “I have good news.”

Anakin kneeled next to the Chancellor.

“Our clone intelligence units have discovered the location of General Grievous. He’s hiding, in the Utapau system.”

Anakin breathed in relief. “At last. We’ll be able to capture that monster and _end_ this war.”

The Chancellor paused and, not for the first time, Anakin wondered what he was thinking. Wondered how it was that the politician’s shields against the Force were so strong. Anakin didn’t make a habit of invading the consciousness of senators and representatives, but the amount of resistance Palpatine put up was impressive and strange. For a _Jedi_ , even.

“I would worry about the collective wisdom of the council if it didn’t select _you_ for this assignment. You’re the best choice, by far.”

And immediately, Anakin recognised what he had always known to be true. That _this_ was the reason he placed so much importance on his relationship with the Chancellor. What the Jedi, what _Obi-Wan_ , gave so sparingly–Palpatine held nothing back.

He lauded Anakin’s accomplishments, great and small. Encouraged him to do more, to do greater. To _be_ greater. 

Anakin’s stomach clenched as he felt that familiar conflict within himself. That reminder that he’s _not the Jedi he should be_.

“Hmm,” Palpatine gave a small smile, like he knew exactly what was at war in Anakin’s chest. “Sit down.” He turned to the nameless woman. “Leave us.”

Anakin withheld his groan because he _knew_ how this would go.

_Another opera._

He took the seat anyway. And waited.

“Anakin,” Palpatine said finally, “you know I’m not able to rely on the Jedi Council. If they haven’t included you in your plot, they soon will.”

 _Plot._ He made it sound like a resistance, a rebellion–a _betrayal_.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Anakin said carefully, because he _didn’t_. The Chancellor had mentioned his ill-ease toward the Jedi on several occasions, but this implication–this was something else entirely. Too bold a claim for Anakin to take blindly.

“You must sense what I have come to suspect. The Jedi Council want control of the Republic.” He paused and looked at Anakin. “They’re planning to betray me.”

Anakin’s eyebrows knit together. There it was again. That word: _betray_.

But _he_ was a Jedi.

“I don’t think that–”

“ _Anakin_ ,” the Chancellor said in a voice that made Anakin feel like a youngling again. “Search your feelings.”

Anakin couldn’t look away from the older man’s tired eyes. Tired, but not sad. Not like Obi-Wan’s eyes, which had grown greyer and more hollow since the beginning of this war.

 _Feelings_. The very thing Obi-Wan has reminded him to be mindful of his entire Jedi life. And _search_. Such an active command. No. Not a command.

Permission.

“You know, don’t you?” 

Anakin breathed. “I know they don’t trust you,” he said quietly.

“Hmm. Or the Senate. Or the Republic, or democracy, for that matter.”

Another breath. “I have to admit, my trust in them has been shaken.”

It felt wrong to say aloud. Like admitting to a crime or revealing a closely-harboured secret.

But then–Anakin had revealed those things to this man before.

“Why?” Palpatine said, surprising Anakin. “They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn’t they? They asked you to spy on me, didn’t they?

The war is back on, thrashing against the insides of Anakin’s chest. It’s not a battle in his heart because there is a vacuum where his heart should be.

Dangerous, reckless, impulsive. The Jedi had always said.

Powerful, brave, _gifted_. Palpatine had always countered.

“I don’t, uh–” He looked at the floor, at the stage, anything but the man sitting next to him. That just might send him over the edge. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Remember back to your early teachings. All who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi.”

And there’s the punch.

His cylinders fired off in every direction. Pulse rushing, alarms blaring. The words of all the Masters before him came back to him now. It was easy to defend the Jedi, really. Especially using the words he’d always been told were true.

“The Jedi use their power for good,” he insisted. Pretended he hadn’t doubted.

“Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way...including their quest for greater power.”

“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength. They think inwards–only about themselves.”

A pregnant pause. Then, Palpatine’s eyes were back on him. Too seeing, too knowing. “And the Jedi don’t?”

Anakin suddenly found the words of his teachers harder to recall. “The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others.”

Palpatine didn’t seem to have a response to that. Anakin breathed, silently. Relieved. Slouched the slightest bit in his seat. He wasn’t sure how long he could have kept that up.

Then, suddenly, the Chancellor was speaking again, even though his eyes were on the performance down below. “Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”

And the vacuum in Anakin’s chest went still.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you talked to him about this?”
> 
> “No,” he said quickly, pulling his head from her hands. “He doesn’t...we don’t need his help.”
> 
> “Anakin,” she said cautiously. “I think we _do_.”

The door swung open–and there she was. Already in sleepwear, but make-up and hair still perfectly intact. Light strings music from the track she loved played faintly from the room behind her.

“Oh,” she said flatly, her eyes briefly scanning his ragged appearance. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

He leaned against the doorframe, breathlessly. “Of course I didn’t _forget_ –”

“Of course,” she replied evenly, turning back into the apartment without preamble.

“Padmé,” he sighed, following her in and closing the door. 

She moved toward the dining room table, apparently resuming the cleaning she had already been doing when he knocked. An unused plate got scooped into her arms and discarded into the sink.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Then, when she didn’t reply–“Padmé. Don’t be like that.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not _being_ like _anything_ , Anakin. You said you’d be here for dinner. For the first and only time in what–four months? So I _apologise_ for my disappointment in you not showing up.” She flipped the water faucet on. “Disappointed. But not surprised.”

“ _Hey_ ,” he said, growing defensive. “I’ve been a _little busy_ , you know–”

“Yes,” she snapped, dropping the sponge into the sink. “I _do_. Which is why it was important to me that I got to have one _normal night_ with my _husband_ before he goes back to being _busy_ and leaves me to...what? Clean house and read books?”

His eyebrows lowered. “You _know_ that’s now what I–” A frustrated groan. “You’re busy, too. I _know_ that, Padmé. Obviously, _I know that_.”

“So then what was it?” she bit back. “Hmm? Tonight. What was it _tonight_ that has you showing up to my apartment at almost midnight looking like _that?_ ”

Anakin paused. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it fully.

“The Chancellor asked to see me. I was...I was with him.”

She faltered at that. “Palpatine?” Her scrubbing at the dish became more furious. “Again?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, moving to grab the two glasses–one untouched and brimming with wine, one completely drained–from the table. He nudged Padmé as he came up on her side. She regarded him with a tired expression, but shifted over nonetheless.

“What did he want?” she said quietly.

“Several things. I...I wanted to talk to you about it, actually.”

“You’re talking,” she pointed out, pulling the plate from the soapy water. He set the two glasses in the vacant spot.

“Padmé.”

She looked at him, finally, her dark eyes boring into his pleading blue ones. A tiny nod. “All right,” she said quietly, setting the plate on the drying rack.

They moved into the main room and sat on the couch, a little further from each other than usual. Her decision.

“They’ve located Grievous,” he started.

She flinched. “You’re serious?”

He shrugged. “Apparently so.”

“That’s...that’s wonderful,” she said, blinking rapidly at the floor. She raised her gaze to meet her husband’s. “Ani, this could end the war.”

“The Chancellor thinks so.”

The mention of his name again created a sour bubble between them. Padmé had stopped withholding her grimace during conversations around Palpatine long ago.

“And you?” she probed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The Council will…” His mouth twitched bitterly. “They’ll choose someone else.”

“To capture Grievous.”

“Yes.”

“And you believe it should be you?”

“The Chancellor does.”

“Ani,” she said firmly. “That’s the third time you’ve brought him up. What happened?”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Anakin,” she said softly, moving closer to him. He watched her leg press against his and felt her hand come to rest on his back. He leaned into it.

Padmé rubbed small circles on his back, dropping her chin onto his shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

_He could even keep the ones he cared about from dying._

“My nightmares,” he managed. “About you–dying…”

“ _Ani_ , we’ve talked about this. I’m not going to–”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“But I _do_ , my love,” she said in that voice that made him clench his eyes shut. He felt like that little boy on Tatooine. “And what does this have to do with Palpatine?”

_Is it possible to learn this power?_

“I have to save you.”

“When this baby comes,” she shifted, turning fully toward him, “our lives are going to change. I’m scared, too, Ani. And…” she took a shaky breath, “I’m scared for childbirth. I am. We...we didn’t plan this. Not now, not in a war...while we’re so young. But...this _is_ happening. And,” she sighed, moving her hand to push hair out of his forehead, “I worry that your fear in all of this is a distraction.”

“A distraction,” he echoed. “You sound like Obi-Wan.”

“He cares for you like I do.”

Anakin snorted, glad for a moment to lighten the tension. “I hope he doesn’t care for me _like you do_.” He turned his head to kiss the inside of her palm.

She offered a conciliatory half-smile at the crude joke, but ultimately sobered. “Have you talked to him about this?”

“No,” he said quickly, pulling his head from her hands. “He doesn’t...we don’t need his help.”

“Anakin,” she said cautiously. “I think we _do_.”

_Not from a Jedi._

He stood from the couch and moved toward the window. “He’s bound to the Code. That’s where his loyalty is...not to me.”

“To ask someone to be loyal to you above all things is…” She took a deep breath. “That’s a tall order, Ani.”

He spun back toward the couch, feeling fireworks in his chest. Heat, anger, danger. “And you? It’s too _tall_ for you, too? To–”

“ _Anakin_ ,” she cut in, struggling to quickly push off of the couch, holding her stomach all the while. Anakin’s heart dropped at the realisation that he had caused her discomfort. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quickly, eyes on the floor. Because as fast as the fireworks went off, they were just as quick to come down. Guilt, shame, despair.

“You know my loyalty is with you. With our family.” She looked down at the bump in her gown she still cradled. “I just want you to be _happy_ . It’s been so long since I’ve seen you unburdened. I would do anything to ease that...you _know that_ , but–I’m not equipped.” She took a deep breath. “Obi-Wan understands the Jedi...understands what’s at stake here. He can help you process through all of it. I...Anakin, I know you look up the Chancellor. And I know he has been a...mentor to you since you came to the Temple, but–” She gripped the bump a bit tighter. “I cannot stress enough how deeply I wish you would choose to confide in Obi-Wan instead.”

“I can’t–”

“That’s my opinion,” she said firmly. “I’ve said it and I won’t badger you with it anymore. But...please think about it. You say Obi-Wan is detached and uncaring, but I _know_ that not to be true, Ani.”

...

It had been a while since he’d run.

Not run _from_ something or _for_ something, but just... _run_.

It was a form of therapy Obi-Wan had taught him when he was a Padawan. When the pressure and tension and noise in his head had become too _much_. Obi-Wan would roll up their meditation mats and trade in their Temple-issued boots for the more practical training shoes he stashed in their closet. He’d found them in downtown Coruscant and there’d been a time when he’d bought a new pair every month for Anakin as he went through a particularly aggressive growth spurt.

Obi-Wan hadn’t bought him a new pair of shoes in several years now, though. And he hadn’t run with him in even longer.

The power to stop death? If such a power existed, why _wouldn’t_ the Jedi teach it?

Because _they didn’t want him to know_ –Anakin's brain immediately connected. But just as fast–no. That wasn’t Anakin’s voice, that was the Chancellor’s. As always, ready to defend Anakin and tear down the Jedi in the process.

The Jedi who had lied to Anakin, had passed over Anakin, had _rejected_ Anakin. His first memory of them, in fact. But separating the concrete truth from the abstract perceptions of his mind was a difficult task and, for the first time, he found himself wondering how much of it was real.

His feet stung with every hit of the pavement.

Obi-Wan had never rejected him. Never betrayed him in any way. But he _would._ As soon as he knew the truth–he’d turn in an instant. Anakin _knew_ this because he _knew_ his Master. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the perfect Jedi. He’d choose the code. Anakin had always known this so he’d never given him the choice. He couldn’t handle witnessing the decision he knew Obi-Wan would make.

Anakin’s legs burned and his lungs worked overtime with every stride. It had started as a jog, but now it was a sprint. 

He was feeling too much inside and wanted it transferred. Wanted his body to take on some of the burden that his mind and heart was struggling to carry.

He ran faster.

The visions about his mother had been _true._ He’d ignored them for too long–pushed them off. But he made a promise to her and he wouldn’t break that. Never again. Not to someone he loved. _Not_ when he had the power to prevent it.

Palpatine knew about his mother and the aftermath with the Tuskens. When the touch of darkness Anakin always carried with him became a _grip_ and took control. Anakin had told him after Geonosis; a miserable breakdown in the Chancellor’s office with an overwhelmed young man who had become an _orphan_ and a _husband_ in a matter of days.

He stopped running.

Anakin had _told him._

That was how the older man knew about his mother’s death and about the Tusken village. But not about Padmé, not about the new visions.

He started running again, this time with a destination.

...

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan blinked back sleep, unveiled surprise etched across his face.

The younger Jedi shifted, his eyes not quite able to meet his former Master’s.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked. Worry and concern dripped across the remnants of their training bond. “Are you all right?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Anakin muttered, shaking his head. Stepping backwards and away from the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters. “I’m sorry, I’ll...I’ll talk to you to–”

“ _Padawan_ ,” Obi-Wan said firmly. Anakin met his eyes, finally. “I’d really rather talk now, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’d stood in this doorway so many times before, asking for advice, strategies, and–more often than not–dinner. But things with Obi-Wan had been strained for so long. Since Geonosis, really, and most likely before even that. He didn’t know how it had happened or how it had gotten to where it was.

But he knew his Master had tried to fix it. Time and time again, he’d let himself be trampled on by Anakin in increasingly desperate attempts to restore what Obi-Wan had never truly destroyed in the first place. Always willing to give in if it meant repairing whatever schism had formed between them. Anakin knew this–of _course_ he knew this. But apologies were almost as hard as telling the truth.

Maybe it was time for both.

“Okay,” he whispered, before following Obi-Wan through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now they... _talk._ *jaw drops*
> 
> thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do I do?” Anakin whispered.
> 
> “What you were born to do,” Obi-Wan said with a flicker of a smile. “You fight the darkness.”

Anakin looked ridiculous. His face flushed and curls in disarray, completely swallowed by the same fluffy blanket Obi-Wan had watched him fight Ahsoka for on that very couch so many times before.

It had been a while since the three of them had laughed over a meal Obi-Wan undoubtedly got coaxed into making for them. When Ahsoka left, something shattered. They didn’t simply lose a member of their lineage that day on the steps of the Temple. She was family, a _part_ of them, and now–Obi-Wan and Anakin hadn’t managed to find their stride in living a life without her again. Going back wasn’t an option. 

But now here–at some unknown hour past midnight, Anakin was here again. Under that same blanket on that same couch, holding an untouched (as always) cup of tea and–looking at Obi-Wan like maybe he believed he had the answers. 

“I wish you’d say something,” Anakin’s quiet voice interrupted Obi-Wan’s pacing.

Obi-Wan didn’t stop his lap across the room. “I’m thinking.”

“Could you think in one place? You’re...stressing me out.”

He paused to look at the younger Jedi for a brief moment and realised he could see him better now than he could earlier. Whether that was because they’d been here long enough for his eyes to adjust or long enough for the vestiges of morning to start poking through the window, he wasn’t sure.

He kept walking.

“ _Obi-Wan._ ”

Obi-Wan stopped, his back to Anakin. “This is a lot to digest, you know.”

“It’s not a _ronto wrap_ , Master.” Anakin sighed and Obi-Wan could hear him shifting on the couch. Always on the move. “I just told you that the Chancellor somehow knows I’ve been having visions about my secret wife. That he potentially knows the Dark Side...or at least knows enough _about_ it to be a threat. And you’re... _digesting it_.”

Obi-Wan turned and regarded Anakin for another silent moment. Then– “What would you like me to say?”

Anakin blinked. The question had obviously thrown him off-guard. “Well, I–I, er, kind of expected you to be angry.”

“Angry?”

“Obi-Wan, I’m–” Anakin winced, readjusting the blanket around his shoulders, “–I’m _married._ Like...I had an official ceremony on Naboo that–”

“I _am_ familiar with the institution of marriage, Anakin.”

He deflated a bit at that. “Then...what–you…”

“I told you. I’m thinking.” He resumed his walk, then paused again. “But I’m not angry.”

Immediately, a burst of relief thrummed through their bond. Obi-Wan almost physically stumbled against the strength of it.

Anakin had always been so liberal with the feelings he shared, both in the physical sense and through the Force. Never holding back. The Council had reprimanded him for it countless times. But now Obi-Wan was realising how easily he’d been fooled, along with the rest of them. Anakin hadn’t been as vulnerable as he’d always thought. In fact, he hadn’t been vulnerable at _all_ really. 

An entire life, securely locked away for years behind layers of shields that had, Obi-Wan realised, been left at the door. He hadn’t been able to feel his former apprentice in this way since he was a _boy_. He had no idea he’d been withholding this much for this long. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Obi-Wan said. He kept his back to Anakin and realised that morning was indeed beginning to make its presence known, bits of light reflecting off of the shiny Senate building and coming in through Obi-Wan’s window. “I know that...couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Anakin chuckled hoarsely. “The secret-wife part or the Chancellor-being-kind-of-a-creep part?”

Obi-Wan turned and studied the man on the couch some more. Energy practically _buzzed_ around him. Unbridled, and untamed. The bit of relief that had seeped through their bond had already been replaced with anxiety. Fear. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “You know that I’m...that I am here for you no matter what, right?”

“Yeah,” Anakin said quickly and without any real conviction.

Obi-Wan moved to sit on the couch and turned fully toward him, pulling a leg up under himself. He searched his former student’s face. So _young_.

“Are you–are you going to tell the council?” Anakin asked. His mouth twitched as his eyes scanned the room for anything other than Obi-Wan to focus on. It hurt Obi-Wan more than he’d care to admit.

“No,” Obi-Wan said honestly.

Anakin’s eyes snapped to him. “What?”

“Did you think…” Obi-Wan’s frown deepened. “Did you think I would?”

An uncomfortable shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I thought...because...the Council…”

Anakin had always struggled to understand Obi-Wan’s prioritisation of the Code. But not as much as he’d struggled to understand Obi-Wan’s prioritisation of _him_. He’d always been so desperate for warmth and affection, but never quite seemed to know when he’d secured it.

“Until we understand the circumstance surrounding the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, “I think it best if we don’t speak with anyone else about this. The council doesn’t need to know about anything we discussed tonight.”

“Okay,” Anakin said hollowly. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

This next part would be difficult. Delicate. But it was too important to avoid for the sake of comfort. _Anakin_ was too important.

“You’ve been truthful with me tonight, even when it wasn’t easy,” he started. “But I have one more question.” He waited to make sure Anakin was fully listening. “When the Chancellor mentioned this...ability. To stop someone from dying.”

Anakin flinched and Obi-Wan’s chest clenched.

“Did he tell you how?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. He was walking on eggshells here. Anakin had been nothing but forthright, but it was like trying to help a stray lothcat. One wrong move, one move seen as threatening or too much–and he may jolt away. There wouldn’t be any coming back from that.

“No,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “It was hypothetical. All of it was…” He squinted in concentration. “It was a story, about a...Darth Plageuis, I think.”

“Then I assume you’ve come to the same conclusion I have.”

Anakin nodded. “The name _Darth._ He was...a Sith, wasn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“So what Palpatine was saying. That’s...that’s a…”

“Dark Side ability.”

Anakin sat in the quiet for a moment, processing all of it. Obi-Wan stayed silent. He knew how much Anakin had always looked up to the Chancellor, regardless of how Obi-Wan had felt about the man. This was no small revelation for Anakin to hear.

“Master,” he said after a moment.

Obi-Wan watched him.

“He didn’t tell me...how,” he said. Swallowed deeply. Shut his eyes. Then, whispered, “But I wanted him to.”

The couch sunk as Obi-Wan shifted closer to Anakin and rested a hand on the shoulder closest to him. The younger Jedi flinched at the contact. His eyes stayed shut and Obi-Wan didn’t miss the way his hands began to shake in his lap.

“Am I…” he managed hoarsely. “Have I been...touched by the–” His voice quivered. “By the Dark Side?”

Obi-Wan’s grip on Anakin’s shoulder tightened. “No.” he said firmly. “ _No_ , Padawan. You–you are _so strong_ to resist it. To choose _light_ and _truth_ when darkness was offered to you.”

“I–” Anakin shuddered under Obi-Wan’s hand. “Master, I still...I still want to.” A small sound escaped his lips and he turned away, taking a moment to breathe deeply. “I know I shouldn’t, that it’s _wrong_ , but I–” He turned back around. “I have to _save her_ , Obi-Wan.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to breathe.

“What do I do?” Anakin whispered.

“What you were born to do,” Obi-Wan said with a flicker of a smile. “You fight the darkness.”

“It’s– _hard._ It’s always...even when I was a Padawan, Master...I–”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said softly.

So many meditation sessions interrupted by the ‘loudness’ in Anakin’s brain, as he’d described it back then. The intense curiosity in defense techniques often viewed as too controversially crude for the Jedi. Sparring sessions with fellow initiates that went further than they should have gone. 

Anakin looked up suddenly, with wide eyes. Like he had just remembered. “What are _you_ going to do?”

Obi-Wan’s small smile grew. “What _I_ was born to do.” He squeezed Anakin’s shoulder. “Fight alongside you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's just something so soft about late night conversations that bleed into the morning :')

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, commenting, kudosing, and also for existing. I appreciate you!!
> 
> for more Star Wars hyperfixation, come scream along with me on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/giggles-and-freckles)!


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